I'll Stand In the Rain
by Ardnexia
Summary: Lothiriel is depressed and sad from her brother Erchirion's death. One day, The High Council of Gondor rides into her father Imrahil's palace for a meeting, and Lothiriel meets the first person who doesn't notice her for her looks alone. Read and rate! I hope you like it.
1. Chapter 1

I'll Stand In The Rain

I'll stand in the rain and wait for you. I promise. I can't even seem to hold on to the fading sky without you. Why are you gone? Wait, but you're not gone. Because I'll stand in the rain and wait for you.

Lothiriel sat shivering, draped in a silk blanket. The brobdingnagian blanket was spread all around her on the floor, like the train of a wedding dress had been spun around her. Outside the rain lashed at the walls of the palace. A bolt of lightning struck the ground nearby and she cried out.

Soon she heard soft footsteps coming from outside. Siliet's frail frame shook as Ivrinial padded into the room. Without a word she put her arms around the small girl and whispered an old nursery song into her ear.

Slowly her shuddering became shivers, and then slowly dissipated and was gone. She lay on the bed, sleeping, her aunt slowly running her fingers through her long brown hair, brushing it smooth so that it shone.

Her breathing became softer, her eyes fluttered closed, and she slept for the first time in a long, long while. But her dreams were still there, flitting through her thoughts in passing wisps, curling around her hope and extinguishing it.

Lothiriel woke up slowly. The first thing she was aware of was an ever present murmur in her ear. Not a murmur of noise, but a silent murmur. She sat up slowly, glancing around. Same old room, same old bed. She sighed. But no brother there to comfort her when she woke up crying from her nightmares.

No brother to wait for in the rain, to wait for him to return from the war. She closed her eyes, eyelids flickering in thought of the pain. Slowly she rose, dressed in a pale violet dress, and walked to breakfast. Her father Imrahil sat at the long table conferring with two men. Her aunt gave a slight nod in her direction, but her father showed no signs of noticing her.

After a quick breakfast, she went to walk in the gardens. Soon she was joined by her brother, Amrothos. "Soon Eomer, King Aragorn, and the others of the Great Council of Gondor will ride in." Lothiriel said nothing. "You know father wishes you to choose a husband, or he will pick one for you himself."

"I am aware of this, brother, but I am no mood to do so." He sighed a little. "I know you lament Erchirion Lothiriel, but you must end this torpor." Lothiriel sighed. "You know I can't, Amrothos. Please leave me.'' He persisted, staying by her side as she walked. "Lothiriel..."

"I said leave!" She shouted, then realized what she had done. She looked shocked for a moment as he walked away, then turned and ran towards the far end of the gardens.

* * *

Lothiriel retreated to her rooms for the rest of the day, requesting luncheon and supper in her quarters, although she ate little of the food brought to her. Lothiriel lay in the darkness, listening to the pounding of the waves on rock. She wouldn't sleep tonight, or the next, or the next.

Ivrinial knocked at her door. "Go away." Lothiriel buried her head in her pillow. She heard a sigh, and someone slumped against the door. "Dear, they are riding in now from the north. Your father would have you greet them." Lothiriel waited until she left to slip from her bed.

She dressed slowly but not methodically, pulling on a simple black dress. Cotton, made from rough material and with few embellishments save for a simple braided cord at her waist that acted as a belt. She pulled her hair into a loose bun, reminded of how her mother always used to wear it. She moved towards the door, but stopped, turned back, and then left after placing a black veil on her head that covered her face.

Imrahil sighed when he saw her. "Couldn't you cast away your sadness for one night only, Lothiriel?" She shook her head, then set her gaze on the approaching riders. Soon they were galloping through the gates one after another, eldest first, then the younger riders in the back.

Lothiriel glanced at them all. A few looked at her sadly, others rather maliciously. They are fools. They say sadness is hurtful so they throw away their feelings. Only one person did not glance at her in passing, or stare like some of his companions. Intrigued, she reached for her veil, lifting the shroud over her head and away from her face.

Several people took shocked breaths, while others began to gape. Lothiriel supposed she was beautiful. She had never really bothered to check with anyone wether or not it was true. Still the rider alone payed her no heed, only briefly glancing in her direction.

For the first time in months she found herself smiling. Just briefly, but it was enough. She turned to her father. "I will be going now, father." Imrahil nodded. He had long since relinquished attempting to keep her at his side when she didn't want to be there.

* * *

Lothiriel walked back to her room quietly, but when she got there, she closed the door and screamed. Then she laughed. To anyone passing by, it would sound as if the princess was going crazy. And maybe she was. Or maybe, just maybe, she was looking forward to breakfast in the morning.

Lothiriel walked to breakfast in the morning with her head held high. Then she noticed the memorial to her brother out the window, and her confidence melted like ice in summer. Suddenly she was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Why had Erchirion needed to prove himself? He was strong and brave. Not enough so for him, apparently.

Then Ivrinial was there, lifting her up and wiping away her tears. "Come on Lothiriel." Her aunt sighed. "Lothiriel, I'm afraid I'm leaving soon." Lothiriel shook her head. "W-why?" The word was a stuttered half-whisper. "I'm old and frail dear. I would like to travel. To see the world. Or at least, a fair part of it."

Lothiriel crumpled, head in hands. "I'm sorry dear." She heard Ivrinial speaking to someone distantly, and then she was being lifted up and led away, back to her rooms. When she finally looked around, the door was closing on the man she had seen who hadn't noticed her.

* * *

Please review! Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

For the rest of the day, Lothiriel lay in bed, thinking. First she considered Erchirion, but it was too hard, so she turned her thoughts to the strange man. He was young and strong, but many of them were. She pondered who he could be to no avail, so finally she gave up and slipped into her favorite green dress and went down to the dining hall. She didn't bother trying to smile at the guests, simply sat in a chair next to her brother.

As they served the meal, Lothiriel glanced around the table artfully. A few people who had been boxed out of the conversation were looking around the room bluntly, others debated politics with fervor, and then - there he was. Talking coolly with another council member as if he didn't have have time to bother with anything else. She turned to Elphir just slightly and waited for him to finish talking, then asked quietly, "Who is that man seated at the far corner of the table, seated beside mother?" Elphir nodded at him slightly. "That man? He is Eomer, King of Rohan."

Lothiriel watched him silently for several minutes before excusing herself from the hall. Sighing, she went to her favorite spot in the palace, the gardens. Not many plants grew in the harsh weather by the ocean, but in the sheltered garden orange trees, shrubs, and many flowers grew. She kicked off her tight shoes and sat on the small swing that had been constructed at the edge of the garden under the shade of a short, flat tree.

She leaned back, holding the creaking rope tightly. The leaves danced above her, not vibrant green, more of a bleached olive color. The tree creaked, fractured bark crumbling and falling in a few places in a fine dust. She let her bare feet graze the ground gently.

Then she heard voices talking just behind the shrubbery. Strangely enough, her mind told her to leave, and she slipped from the wooden seat at the peak of its swing and bent to scoop up her shoes, her bare feet skipping over the ground as she settled behind a bush. Her slim fingers pushed some branches out of the way. Imrahil strode around the corner, accompanied by Eomer. She couldn't quite make out their words, but they seemed to be discussing something casual, as Imrahil roared with laughter several times.

They reached the swing and Imrahil leaned against the tree, while Eomer sat on the swing, letting it swing back and forth. "My sister tells me you've met my daughter."

"Yes. Not in any normal state however." Imrahil sighed. "The only person who is more distant than her is my wife. Both are sulking in Erchirion's death." Eomer nodded. "Understandable." Lothiriel resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but a pang of pain at Erchirion's death filled her heart painfully.

Imrahil sighed. "I only wish the best for her, but she keeps me away." Eomer watched him. "Maybe you're trying to hard." And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving both father and daughter in a stunned silence.

* * *

Lothiriel sat on the ground behind the bush considering the conversation she had overheard. Maybe he WAS trying to hard. She just wanted to be left alone, but she knew he cared for her as a daughter. She curled up into a small ball on the ground. A few minutes later, Imrahil left. She heard his footsteps recede into the sound of the wind.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned, eyes blazing, and punched the offender's face. Or rather, tried to. A large hand caught her fit before it reached him. She looked up into Eomer's face and blushed furiously. "Oh," she gasped. He dropped her hand but watched her as he said, "I thought I saw someone back here." As he spoke, Lothiriel was focusing on getting over her embarrassment. She stood brazenly, ignoring the thorns that poked her feet.

"Yes, well. I was there. I overheard by accident." He nodded. "I'm sure." It was wholly unconvincing. She began walking back to the castle, and he walked along beside her. For several moments it was silent, and then she spoke. "Did you know him? Erchirion?" It sounded desperate she knew, but she had to ask. He said nothing for several moments. "I knew him. He was a friend. He died-" She interrupted. "Don't tell me he fought bravely. I don't want to hear it." He smiled at that. "Why not?"

Around them, flower petals cascaded from the apple trees lining the path. A soft carpet of leaves covered the ground. It was still damp from the rain two days ago. She shook her head sadly. "Because then I'll picture it. Fighting on that big battlefield, surrounded by people but utterly alone." He mused about that for a while. "Perhaps." She sighed. "Perhaps?" He nodded. The castle loomed above them, casting it's shadow on them.

Their conversation continued until they reached the open hallway with the twin staircases. She said goodbye detachedly and went up one staircase. She could feel his gaze on her until she turned a corner, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She snorted frustratedly. As far as she was concerned, Erchirion had died an honorable death. Her search was yielding no results. Erchirion wasn't the saint everyone believed he was. Her mother knew that. Now she just needed proof, but no one as willing to tell her the truth. That, or no one knew the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

Lothiriel spent several days in the library, researching Rohan. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Saerafel, the resident librarian. Several times, he found her dozing off in a chair or at a window seat, a book in her hands. Multiple times she came close to falling out of her chair and hitting her head on the table.

"Lothiriel, what is this infatuation you have with Rohan? I am running out of books for you to read." Lothiriel glanced up from her book, her pale face cast half ways into shadow by the window pane. "I simply am interested." Saerafel smirked, sitting down across from her. "Are you sure that it is the kingdom you are infatuated with and not the king? I heard that he is-" Lothiriel put up a hand, stopping him.

"Do not say another word, Saerafel. Not one word." Saerafel shrugged, set down another, considerably smaller stack of books, and walked away. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, doll. You could stand to be in love." Lothiriel shuddered. The nerve of some people. She was not in love. She would not fall in love. Not after - not after Erchirion.

She began to read once more, but she still could feel a nagging feeling somewhere in her mind. She sighed, unable to focus on the book. The library was so hot she felt as if she would melt. She cracked open a window with difficulty and sighed as the cool air drifted in, along with a conversation on the palace wall a ways below her.

"She must marry, Imrahil, and my son would be just perfect for her. We do not have a throne, but she would live in the most comfortable-"

"My daughter will marry when she deems it to be time, consul." The man frowned. "But my King! Should it not be your decision on who she shall marry, and not her own?" Lothiriel almost growled, but opted to grit her teeth in annoyance. There were several people in the library, and she didn't need a reputation for growling like an animal as well as being depressed. She heard Imrahil continue. "Whether or not your son is fit I do not know, but the choice is not mine to make." Lothiriel smiled slightly at that. At least her father was sticking up for her. Very out of character for him, actually. Very odd indeed.

Lothiriel had trawled through countless books for the past few weeks, hoping to find something interesting about Rohan, but without success. Actually, her success rate had, in general, taken a nosedive. She hadn't spoken to Eomer for a few weeks, her health had been declining as her appetite lessened, and her old nursemaid had retired and been replaced with a newer, much less helpful version.

How on earth was she supposed to look happy for the banquet tonight if no one helped her? 'Just… look happy.' they said. And then they ignored her when she felt sad. Hypocrites, the lot of them. Only Saerafel could keep her spirits up, with impromptu deliveries of books and gadgets, among other things.

A sharp rap at her door, and Saerafel walked in, balancing several books. He was young for a librarian, she thought, watching his lips move without really hearing what he was saying. "Lothiriel? Are you listening?"

"Sorry Saerafel, what was that?" He sighed deeply. "Never mind."

Moments later Rhihandria, her new maid, walked in. "Lady, there is a man to see you." She noticed Saerafel and left quickly, blushing. _Curious, worth looking into._ Lothiriel thought softly. A man entered the room, glancing at the librarian with momentary disdain, but then fixing a smile on his face. Lothiriel immediately felt a dislike for the man appear inside her heart. "Lady Lothiriel," he said quietly.

"Sir." He seemed slightly embarrassed at not having introduced himself. "My name is Rircyn. I am Consul Gilmandil's son." Lothiriel frowned. The very same consul who had been trying to marry her to his son. This son, presumedly. Trying to buy her affection, was he? Well, good luck to him. He would not get so much as a laugh out of her. She gave him a thin smile, lips tight and pressed. He watched her carefully, like a hawk watching its prey. Did he think she was blind? That she could not see him staring at her?

"Sir, are your eyes quite alright?"

"Begging your pardon, Lothiriel-"

"I would prefer you to call me Lady Lothiriel in future, Sir Rircyn." It was his turn to frown. "Of course, Lady Lothiriel. As I was saying before, I was simply astonished by your beauty."

"Oh, was that all?" She stifled a smile as he frowned again. "I hardly think it to be a comment of unimportance." His brow furrowed in exasperation. "Sir, perhaps you should leave if I am vexing you." He quickly straightened, smoothing his hair back. _Smoothing his ruffled feathers, _ Lothiriel thought facetiously.

"The reason for my blunt intrusion, my Lady, was to ask if you would enjoy accompanying me to the banquet tonight. I'm afraid I was warned rather late and do not have anyone to go with. _I'm sure you don't._ "I'm sorry, but I am quite afraid that I already am going with someone."

"Oh?'' His voice was layered partially with polite decorum and partially with actual curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, who are you going with." Lothiriel smiled at him cattily. "You'll have to find out, won't you." Now if only Lothiriel could figure out who she was going with, everything would be fine.

Lothiriel paced the room, bouncing long and very fast sentences of the walls. Saerafel sat in the chair, ears politely covered by his hands. Her rant had grown steadily louder over the last twenty minutes, and now she was practically yelling.

"Lothiriel! Lothiriel! LOTHIRIEL!" She stopped for a moment. "What is it?"

"It is not my fault that the consul is trying to lure you into marriage, neither is it my fault that you do not have a partner for the banquet. Please, please calm down." She sighed heavily. I know, it honestly isn't you. It isn't me either. I don't even know what to think anymore. After Erchirion, it's all been so confusing."

"What he did to you was terrible Lothiriel. But he's gone now, you have to understand that. That is in the past."

"Fine." Lothiriel huffed. "What does the librarian propose that I do?" Saerafel grinned. "Get a man."

"You," Lothiriel said quietly, "can be so immature."

Lothiriel raised a hand to knock on Eomer's door with a feeling of unease. She noticed how pale her hand looked. She shook herself and knocked twice. "Yes?" Lothiriel gasped, whirling, surprised that the voice had come from directly behind her and not from the door in front of her. Eomer stood just behind her, backlit by the sun shining in from the window. "Oh," she said meekly. He watched her, not quite expectant, more curious.

She composed herself quickly. "Would you mind going with me this evening? To the banquet, I mean."

"Who's asking?" She frowned at him. "I am asking, Lord. I am asking, and no one is asking but me at this time."

"But is Lothiriel asking, or is the depressed girl I also know asking?"

"Lothiriel is asking. This game is pointless, Lord, for you should already know the answer."

"Of course I will join you at the banquet, my Lady Lothiriel. Now if you would pardon me…"

Blushing slightly from confusion, she stepped to the side and moved around him. After a good distance, she said quietly, so no one would hear: "He is so frustrating!" She hurried back to her room.

Saerafel had left her the stack of books and left the room while she was away, but he had taken the liberty of scrawling her a note on a piece of paper, one of many that she kept handy by her bedside.

_Going back to library. Come by later to tell me if you got someone to go with._

_ ~ Saerafel_

She smiled softly. She could always trust him to look out for her, and care about her even when she was being unreasonable. _I did get someone to go with, Saerafel. And you will tease me to no end when you find out who it is. _

Lothiriel decided to occupy her time by going to the stables. She didn't like to go often, because everybody stared at her, treating her like… royalty. She prefered to go unnoticed.

Several hours later she returned to her room, sweaty but happy, and politely asked Rihandria to draw her a bath. When she finally finished her fingers resembled raisins, and the time before the banquet was dwindling quickly.

She dressed quietly, heart beating slightly faster than she felt was normal. She was nervous, for some strange reason. "Not strange," Rihandria said quietly. Lothiriel didn't jump, despite the fact that she had been unaware of the servant girl's presence.

"Why do you say that?" Rihandria smiled at her. "Everyone gets frighted. But it is worth it."

"Why is it worth it?" Lothiriel said heatedly. "Because it makes you wiser."

"Wiser. But not stronger?"

"Strength is a word that means a thousand of words but never believes in itself.' Rihandria helped Lothiriel into her gown for dinner. "Why are you so kind to me, Rihandria?" Rihandria stiffened. Maids and servants were not supposed to be referred to by name. "Because you are a good mistress."

"I'm not a good mistress. I've been far too rude to you. I'm afraid I couldn't see past my anger at the replacement of Seteyll, my previous handmaid."

"No, lady, you truly have been kind. I am lucky to work for you." Lothiriel frowned. "Very well, if you say so. But from now on, I will watch out for you. I promise." Rihandria smiled sadly. "I've had my fair share of promises. Thank you though, lady." Lothiriel sighed as Rihandria left the room at a brisk pace.

A knock at the door moments after the door had closed made her turn her head slightly towards the door. She stood motionless, thinking, before she quickly strode to the door and opened it regally.

Eomer was waiting for her; he tossed her a white rose, obviously freshly picked. She caught it quickly. "No thorns,"

"I took the liberty of pulling them off." _So stoic,_ she thought. Her lips curved up slightly into a smile.

He held out his arm and she took it, still smiling partially, and walked with down to the banquet hall. She could feel his muscles working beneath his tunic. She didn't understand women who fawned over men's muscles. They were for strength alone, not something to drool over.

Somehow they managed to reach the banquet without uttering a single word to each other. The silence wasn't awkward, it was infact very nice, just to be in his presence. She knew that sounded cheesy, but it was true.

She took in a sudden breath when she saw who she had been seated next to. Lord Rircyn. _Well, this should be fun._ she thought sardonically. She sat down carefully, dragging Eomer with her. "Lord Rircyn! What a pleasure to see you again."

"Lady Lothiriel. It is, indeed, a delight." She smiled as sweetly as she could. "Did you succeed in finding someone to bring?"

"Yes, in fact I did. Lady Lothiriel, this is Lady Ocaema." Lothiriel smiled. "A pleasure to meet you." She turned back to Rircyn, and made sure her next words were loud enough to be heard by everyone at the table.. "Did you invite her to bed as well?" Lothiriel was almost positive that she heard a few people gasp. Rircyn blushed bright pink.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Come now, don't be shy. You certainly weren't shy when you approached me earlier. I see that you are in good spirits even after I turned you down earlier." The table was remarkably silent, except for the occasional whisper.

Lothiriel turned back to the table. "Let us eat, friends." Everyone turned back to their plates and dug in. Eomer waited for the conversation to be in full swing so as to mask his words. "That was rather demeaning."

"It was meant to be."

"I had the feeling."

"He had to be put down, and people needed to see that I was still capable of taking care of things."

"A power play."

"Indeed." She saw him smile slightly out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly a surge of longing surged through her. It was there and gone in seconds but she could feel the residual feelings still in her, speeding up her heart.

She gasped, clutching the fabric of the dress over her heart. Eomer noticed perceptively. "Are you alright?" His eyes wandered the table as he spoke, face passive. "Fine," she gasped back. "I just need to take a moment." Lothiriel stumbled away from the table and collapsed against the wall. She fell asleep before she could make it back to her room.

She woke up halfway through the night, unable to sleep. A knock on her door, the second one today, the first that she hadn't been expecting. She rose, surprisingly steadily, and walked to the door, opening it a crack. "Rircyn," she breathed.


	4. Chapter 4

Rircyn smirked at her, face contorting into a mask of anger. "Hello, Lady Lothiriel." She looked at him and took a step back, attempting to swing the door closed.

A boot was wedged between the door and the wall, and it certainly was not hers. "Please remove your foot, Lord Rircyn." He did not reply, instead shoving he door open and yanking her out.

Her weak muscles were no match for his brute strength and toned muscles. She glared at him in disdain. "What is this about?"

"You could not possibly think that your admonishment would go without repercussion." Lothiriel took a deep breath, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirts. "I did not think it more than a civil conversation."

"Do not play games with me, Lothiriel."

"I have made it clear previously that I did not wish to be referred to with such intimacy, Lord Rircyn."

"That choice is no longer yours to make." Lothiriel tensed. She had known this would come, and chided herself. _You should have known better._

His grip tightened on her wrist and she squeaked in pain. He smirked with satisfaction. "You will apologize to me tomorrow for your words at breakfast."

His words held no uncertainty, and she herself knew what the outcome would be in the morning. "Understood." He spun her around and shoved her back into the room. She stumbled as her dress was caught in the door as it slammed shut.

She sat for a moment, on her hands and knees, staring at the stone floor. She could faintly see her reflection in the polished surface. She shivered as she stumbled back to bed. She didn't notice her dress rip as she walked away.

She didn't sleep well that night, or any of the nights after that.

* * *

It was another four days before Rircyn bothered her again. She had indeed apologized to him, but she put a spin on it in the form of more public disgrace.

He hadn't left pleased as he had hoped he would. She was satisfied, even with the knowledge that he would prosecute her for it later. She was beginning to return to her old self.

Then she remembered and sank back into depression. She sat curled up under a great willow oak tree. She closed her eyes, sharply breathing in the crisp air.

A hand clamped around her throat. She struggled to stand as she was half dragged half carried deeper into the grove of trees.

Rircyn pressed her against a tree, pinning her to the rough bark. "It seems you have not learned your lesson. You are to marry me, Lothiriel, get used to this regime of cat and mouse if you continue with this behavior."

"I take it that I am not meant as the cat, in that metaphor." He spat on the ground, accomplishing absolutely nothing in doing so.

She spat in his face, causing him to release her. She ran back towards the castle as fast as she could. He caught her at the edge of the willow oak grove, spinning her around and slapping her in the face. She winced and shrank away from him, cowering as best she could.

He smirked at her, stealing a glance up at the castle before looking back down at her. "Best remember my warning, pet, or you will have more to fear than yourself."

She looked away and he let her go, slinking into the shadows of the trees. She sat there until someone sent somebody to look for her. She recognized his scent before she saw him. "What happened here?"

"Nothing concerning you, Lord Eomer." She felt his glare boring into her. "You are sitting on the ground. Your wrists are bruised and your face has a hand mark." He growled at her sharply, irritated.

"Leave me be." He yanked her upright, and pointed her towards the castle. "Go back to the castle, Lady Lothiriel."

"With great pleasure." She started back, and he traipsed along behind her. The walk was silent, no conversation passing between them.

Breakfast was the next time she saw Lord Rircyn. She smiled when she saw the bruise that was forming on his hands from where she had pulled, twisted, and fought his grasp. He on the other hand looked angry as per usual, put also rather pensive.

She scanned the table and noticed Eomer sitting a ways away from her. He obviously saw her, but blatantly ignored her. She frowned, signing deeply. She picked at her food, moving it around her plate. Once her father asked if she was quite well, she deemed it time to leave.

She was sitting in the library hours later when she heard a noise outside. She sighed again, but slunk from her chair to the door. She cracked it open and stepped outside into the chilly corridor.

She glanced around the corner and saw, to her surprise, Eomer and Rircyn. Eomer had Rircyn pinned to the wall. One hand pinned his arms while the other was at Rircyn's throat. She made out the end of Eomer's sentence.

"-leave her alone. If I see you doing anything of that sort again I so swear I will-" his words were cut off suddenly by the wind sipping through the corridor, but from the pale that crept onto Rircyn's face, she could tell it was not pleasant.

Rircyn, to his credit (though she was loath to credit him with anything brave), stood his ground. "I don't know what you're talking about." Eomer tightened his grip on Rircyn's neck. "I had just come out of council. I _saw _you with her. Threatening her."

Rircyn shoved Eomer away, or at least, attempted to. "You could not have known that we were arguing, had we indeed been arguing, from so far away."

"I have my sources." Rircyn managed to squirm from Eomer's grasp. "It is no business of yours if we are fighting."

"It matters to me. Do not do it again." Rircyn said nothing, walking away. Eomer watched him go. He turned towards the door and spotted her watching.

She was startled momentarily before whirling around and hurrying off into the shelves of books. She finally sat down on the floor, breathing hard, and nearly screamed when a hand fell across her shoulder. Eomer smiled faintly. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes!" She stood, unecisarily dusting her skirts off. "Sorry."

* * *

They strode through the corridors, her dress swirling about her ankles. They made a strange pair; a pale, skinny princess and a strong, fit man, both of them almost entirely silent.

She spoke quietly. "Why do you act so differently around me? With everyone else you are so..."

"Difficult?"

"No..." She watched him. "So harsh?" She decided. "Yes, why are you so harsh?"

"The world is a harsh place. If you want to survive you must play hard."

"But not with me! Why is that?"

"You make me think about things differently than I thought about them before." She sighed. "Are you sure it's not just because I am 'delicate'?"

"If you were delicate, I would not enjoy your company half as much as I do now."

"You have the gall to call me depressed, and then say I am not delicate?" she scoffed.

"Tell me why you are depressed, and I will judge whether you are delicate."

"I don't think you want to know." She slumped, thinking about Erchirion. "I do want to know."

"Please go." Eomer faced her. "Why must I? You need to confront this fear, Lady Lothiriel."

"I will be the judge of that, Lord Eomer. Now please leave me." She spoke coldly, shunning him with her words.

"Very well," he said sourly, mouth pressed into a hard line. "if you wish it." She watched him leave before slumping against the wall, head pounding. Something about him put her on edge.

She stifled a yawn, then made her way slowly back to her rooms. She collapsed on the bed and called for Rihandria to draw her a bath.

An hour later she still sat in the tub, halfway between despondency and confusion. She slid lower into the water, and would have made a sarcastic remark about it being a metaphor for her current state of mind, when Rihandria knocked on the door.

"Dinner is in an hour, Lady Lothiriel." Lothiriel responded curtly, irked at having been interrupted, and stood up, wrapping a towel around her.

* * *

Dinner was a silent affair. Lothiriel was a little nervous about the fact that Rircyn and Eomer were seated next to each other, but she was still chagrined about Eomer's words earlier to be greatly bothered by it.

The entire table seemed to have noticed the tension, and finally Imrahil spoke. "Well, the council leaves in two days. I only hope that we don't run across any trouble on the road." There were murmurs of agreement. "I have decided to send my daughter Lothiriel to Minas Tirith in my stead."


	5. Q & A

Sorry guys, not an update, but there seemed to be some confusion that I wanted to resolve. Actually, I was wondering if anyone would notice this, and I'm just now realizing that I forgot to add that part in… oops. In the last chapter, Eomer saw that Lothiriel had a 'mark' on her face from Rircyn. Somebody commented that people would have noticed the next day. I forgot to write this in, but (possible spoiler) Lothiriel has had to hide bruises in the past for various reasons, and she covered it up purposefully. Thank you for noticing that, or I would never have caught that.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

~:~

Lothiriel was restless. She paced the library, talking to herself. Saerafel, as usual, was resigned to watching her, not attempting to interrupt.

"How could father! And why would he? And that... that absolute lothario Lord Rircyn!" She growled, remembering his words to her. "Thinks he owns me, does he? Well, we shall see. Yes, we shall see!"

Rircyn reminded her of someone, truth be told, but she did not at all want to think about him. Both men lionized themselves, and if their egos had been any bigger they would have started having trouble fitting through doors.

She closed in on herself, muttering about Rircyn. Rihandria hurried over, frowning. "My lady, we should return you to your rooms. Perhaps some warm tea would help." Rihandria glanced at Saerafel, then looked away quickly.

Lothiriel nodded. "I think I would like that." she murmured. She needed Erchirion there to help her. But _He is gone._ She let Rihandria lead her to the door. _Gone. He's gone. _She fell into bed, subdued by her thoughts. _He's gone._

_He's gone. _

_He's gone._

_He's gone._

_He's gone. _Rihandria left quietly. _I can't do this... not alone. I won't do this! _Lothiriel stood up just as abruptly as she had sat down, filled with renewed vigor.

"Father!"

Prince Imrahil watched his daughter pacing the room. He almost wished, for an instant, that she was depressed again, if only to keep her quiet. However, he quickly dispelled this thought, chastising himself quietly.

"Father!"

Imrahil turned to face his daughter. "What is it, Lothiriel?"

"Have you been listening at all?"

Imrahil didn't answer her, instead replying with; "Lothiriel, you seem to be feeling better."

"That is beside the point, father. Why have you sent me to do this? You are perfectly capable of going."

"The fresh air and sun will do you good, Lothiriel. I need to stay here, where I can rest and watch over Dol Amroth. You will be fine. You have Eomer and Amrothos to make sure you are safe."

Lothiriel sniffed haughtily. "Well, I am bringing Rihandria."

"Of course."

"And father," Imrahil sounded worn as he said quietly, "Yes, Lothiriel?"

"I'm taking The Stallions."

Imrahil began to nod, then changed his mind. "Lothiriel, The Stallions are our most versatile protection."

"I shall only take a few of them."

Imrahil closed his eyes, grinding his teeth together in thought. "Very well. You may take a few." Lothriel smiled at him and curtsied sardonically. "Thank you father, for complying with my request." Lothiriel strode out of the room, bumping into someone as she did. "Oh! I am terribly sorry!" She looked up into the young man's eyes and her cheeks flushed slightly. "Adramir! Good evening."

The captain of The Stallions nodded to her politely. "Lady Lothiriel." Lothiriel unconsciously began to fidget with the hemline of her dress. "I was just coming to see you. You see, I had asked if I could offer you a chance to come with me and see Minas Tirith, and Prince Imrahil has consented. If you would like to come, I would love having you as company."

"That is indeed wonderful news. I have been hoping to travel to Minas Tirith ever since I heard tales of the great war. Thank you for extending the invitation." She felt her pulse beginning to speed up. "Of course, Adramir."

"Of course I will accept." She smiled giddily. Walking past him quickly. She tensed as she brushed against his arm. She hurried to her rooms to pack for the trip.

She smiled. Finally, time to get her riding ensemble out after so long. She threw open her closet doors and began to delve in the dusty closet.

~:~

Lothiriel had prepared her things a day in advance, and had taken, once again, to pacing her room, waiting. She was, on the whole, very surprised when Rihandria came with a message saying that they needed to leave within the hour.

"Did Prince Imrahil say why?" Rihandria shook her head. "No, your highness." Lothiriel chastised her servant teasingly, "Rihandria, I beg of you! Please call me Lothiriel, or Lady Lothiriel. You were doing well with remembering it for quite a while there."

Rihandria curtsied. "Shall I bring your things down to the stables to be packed with your other luggage, Lady Lothiriel?"

"Please do." Rihandria picked up her two large satchels of gowns and other garments, and her small bag, filled with small trifles and such. "Rihandria! Not that one."

Rihandria curtsied and left, leaving Lothiriel alone with the thin, long parcel on the bedspread. She sat on the bed and slowly undid the ribbon. The precious silk was soft and cool against her palms. She tossed it aside and unfolded the cloth, picking up the dagger and sheath in her hands.

A brutal urge to cry overtook her as she read the inscription, but she held her tears back for the time being. She stood, crossing the room to her wardrobe. She pulled out her riding gear, a thick, maroon cotton skirt, and a tunic. She undressed quickly and slid the outfit on.

Lothiriel returned to the bed quickly. Sitting down, she hiked her skirt up high enough to strap the sheath to her upper thigh. She slid the dagger into its holster quickly and stood, dropping her skirt.

She turned, looking at herself in the mirror. She smiled at her reflection, then took a deep breath. "I am her royal highness Princess Lothiriel, the only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." She smiled. "Time to ride." she murmured, before sashaying out the door to the stables.

~:~

The entire council was situated in the stables. Lothiriel found a place beside Faramir. He nodded to her politely. She smiled back slightly. Prince Imrahil, despite the fact that he would not be going to Minas Tirith, stood in the center of the semicircle, waiting. "Now that we have all arrived, I may begin. I'm afraid that recently a group of bandits has been spotted heading south towards Dor-En-Ernil." Lothiriel frowned. The Land of The Prince had always been kept under a watchful eye by her father.

"The people of Lebinnen have asked the rangers to look after this threat, but they have advised us to send the council over the bridge at the Serni river, and across the Anduin and Pelargir -" Someone interjected. "But where will that get us besides nowhere, Imrahil? This plan is preposterous."

"Some of the elves from the Mirkwood colony in the Ithilien have been in Pelargir recently. They will be leaving in five days time, but they are willing to wait another two days so that they can escort you all safely to Minas Tirith. You have my daughter accompanying you. You will take this precaution."

Lothiriel raised her chin in defiance. "I am fully capable of protecting myself father. Let these 'bandits' come. We must see what they want. I do not wish to hinder the journey simply because of my presence."

Imrahil was baffled to see people slowly beginning to nod at her words. His brow furrowed slightly as he hurried to make amends. "Lothiriel, do not turn this into a family quarrel. I have heard what these mercenaries can do. They are more powerful than your average outlaws."

"If this is what you truly desire, father, then I will not stand in your way. However, remember that I have Adramir if we are confronted by such outlaws," She gestured to the tall Stallion, who looked less than happy to have been dragged into the argument.

"I am terribly sorry about the intrusion. I am sure you all feel as embarrassed as I do." The representative from Anorien chuckled heartily. "Quite the contrary, Prince. Your daughter is quite shrewd. She will make for a good queen, one day." Lothiriel blushed slightly. She wished that she could think the same.

~:~

They rode out within half an hour of the meeting. Walking at a steady pace Lothiriel had already calculated how long it would take to get there. If they only had one week, and they had about two-hundred and fifty miles to go, they had two choices. They could walk, and spend eight hours each day on horseback, or trot, and spend only five or six hours on horseback. All this considered, she would much have prefered the faster route.

She swung her horse in front of the others quickly, causing several people to yank on their reigns. "What do you think you are doing girl? Didn't you hear him? We must make haste." Lothiriel's hair whipped in the wind, her face flushed from the cold salty air.

"And that is precisely why I propose that we speed up. We have been walking for an hour already. If we speed up we will have more time to spare if something goes wrong and we have some difficulties." Now Rircyn spoke up, and Lothiriel's lip curled. "We should not tire the horses, lest we want them to fail on us."

"These are good, purebred horses. Thoroughbreds, Mearas, and many others. They can make the journey. It is not as if we will go without rest." Eomer stepped in. "We must decide now, or not at all. All in favor?" More than half the group agreed, and so they sped up.

The days were endless, and the blistering heat that she was so unaccustomed to made it difficult to think. She had an almost constant headache by the third day, and she was relieved to see, at the end of the day, the great Anduin river stretched out before her. She looked around, wondering why she was here. _Something about elves_, she thought.

They dismounted and the riders knelt by the water, drinking and feeding their horses. Lothiriel did the same. She had just raised the heavenly cold water to her lips when a pang of dizziness swept over her. She toppled forward into the water and felt the strong current sweep her under. Her eyelids flitted closed.

~:~

Lothiriel woke up and proceeded to cough a small amount of water onto the sheets. She took several shuddering breaths and looked around. A beautiful lady stood beside her. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, and she seemed almost to glow. "You are… an elf." The woman smiled politely, turning to look at the man sitting behind her. "All symptoms have dissipated, your royal highness, and complete return of logic and intelligence appears to be functioning at maximum capacity."

The man, the very, very beautiful man, nodded. "Thank you. You are free to go." Lothiriel waited for the woman to leave before she began. "Where am I? Why am I here?" She scanned the room swiftly, nervous. "You are in Pelargir. And I was hoping you could tell me why you are here."

"Do you not know who I am? Where is the council I accompanied?" He raised a perfect eyebrow. "You came with the council?"

"Yes, of course. I am her royal highness, Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. I was riding with the council. We had stopped to take a drink, and I… fainted, I suppose. Who might you be?" He nodded thoughtfully.

"I see. Lady Péniel found you washed up on the rivers bank, and we brought you back here. You seem to have fainted from the heat. Luckily the river cooled you off quickly, and Péniel is a skilled healer. You will fully recover in due time."

"That is all very well and done, but you have evaded my previous question. Who are you?" He smiled at her. "Very well, if you must know."

"I must."

"I am Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm." She took a deep breath. "Oh! I see. May I ask why the council does not know of my presence here? Surely they had already spoken to you."

"By the time we had arrived with you it was late. I did not see fit to wake them. It is still very early in the morning, the sun has just risen. I must leave for breakfast soon, and I will inform them afterwards." Lothiriel frowned. "Am I not allowed to attend?"

"You are still weak. I think it best to let you rest before you see your companions. We leave tomorrow, and we have a long journey ahead of us." She nodded, biting her lip. "Very well. Please have someone bring me supper in bed." He nodded.

He left, and she let out a long breath. Legolas Greenleaf… she was going to have to be careful around him. She didn't want to fall into his spell like she had heard of so many others. She only had to make it to Minas Tirith, and she would be safe.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Hey again! First of all I would like to say that this story is not, and will not become, a Legomance. I can promise you that much. Also, as I'm sure most of you will know at this point, this story deals with depression, and some of the darker aspects as such. This chapter in particular gets a bit rough and may contain some triggers, so if you are uncomfortable with it, I suggest skipping this chapter. _

~:~

Lothiriel watched Legolas as he conferred with his advisors admiringly, noticing how prominent his cheekbones were. Her mind drifted back to when the Eomer had first seen her after she had fallen into the river. He had been so relieved after Legolas had found her it had seemed that he wanted to scoop her up and hold her in his arms, to ensure that she was real.

Eomer had shaved since they reached Pelargir, and it suited him. She had been oblivious as Rihandria had rushed to her, checking to see if she was 'quite well, my lady'. Lothiriel had mumbled that she was fine, thanks to Prince Legolas.

Lothiriel snapped back to the present, realizing that she had been staring at Legolas. She blushed, looking away. She tried to read, but she couldn't everyone was preparing for their departure the next morning, and there was a pleasant hum of noise, and people bustled by frequently. She, however, could not have felt more alone. She had failed them. Her first long trip out of Dol Amroth in years, and she managed to nearly drown herself.

She curled up, bringing her knees to her chest. Her heart felt heavy. She sighed, looking out across the town. Lothiriel felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Rihandria standing next to her, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry, my lady Lothiriel. I dont know what is wrong, but I wish I could help."

"I know you do. You have been a dear friend, Rihandria."

"I'm sorry, but I must leave to pack our supplies. And you should eat before we leave, my lady." Lothiriel nodded, and Rihandria turned on her heel.

The princess was perched on a window-sill on the corner of the building where the captains and the kings met to converse, allowing her a view of both the anduin and Gobel Ciryaher, or New Port, as the people called it. The grass far below her rippled in the wind. Gardeners scrutinized the flora while courtiers perused texts.

The scene, Lothiriel thought, should have been recorded in some way, to mark the simple beauty of it. Of course it was all pointless anyway. It didn't really matter, not in the grand scheme of things. Not that anything did. Lothiriel leaned out the window, taking in a breath of fresh air. She swung herself back inside and made for the staircase. It was a cloudless day, and the sun was shining.

She reached the top of the tower out of breath, legs burning. Lothiriel hiked her skirt up and lifted herself up onto the enceinte. The wind whipped across her face. Lothiriel looked across the water. Beneath her were the rocks lining the edge of the river. It would be so easy just to jump…

He reminded her so much of Erchirion. Handsome, and with an air of intrigue always lingering around him. Her mind flashed back to that last night. She shuddered, remembering the harsh slaps and the freezing air. She had to hold on. He was winning, and she didn't want to let him. The nagging thoughts in the back of her head drifted into sight. _But what's the point anymore? He's dead anyway. He was all you had left… _Lothiriel shook her head, clamping her hands over her ears.

"Stop…" She whispered, to quiet for anyone but herself to hear. "Please, no more!" She remembered hands pulling at her hair. _Just do it. _"No!" She teetered dangerously on the wall, seconds from falling to her doom. And she was almost tempted to pitch herself over the wall, just like the roaring winds and voices in her head suggested.

She held on, gripping the stone tightly. _Whatever happens, don't let go. _She told herself stubbornly. But the other voice inside her head, the greedy, cruel ghost that had been left behind by her brother Erchirion, was far too persistent. _Just, _it began. _let go. Just let go and let yourself tumble over the side. _Lothiriel's grip loosened, and she found herself falling, eyes closing slowly, waiting… waiting… wait. Warm arms had suddenly replaced the empty space beneath her.

"What on earth," Eomer dumped her on the stone floor, far away from the enceinte, "were you thinking?" Lothiriel looked down, heart pounding from her near death experience. She buried her face in her hands, beginning to cry. "I'm so scared," she whispered. "Eomer, I'm so scared."

Eomer sighed, sitting next to her. "What's wrong?" Lothiriel slowly removed her hands from her face. "What's the point in living? I won't change the world. What does it matter anyway? No matter what you do, the only reason you live is to be alive."

"That's not true. What about all the things you love?" Lothiriel laughed derisively. "The only thing I loved is dead."

"Your brother." She choked on a sob. "What about…" Lothiriel watched as Eomer thought about everything he had seen her do. "What about that guard? Adramir, was his name?" She smiled. "He's always been so kind to me. But I don't-"

"And what about dancing? Your brother told me you love to dance."

"Amrothos…" It was true, she had always loved dancing. Loved being able to express herself through dancing. She could lament and love, be passionate and cold. She could make men beg for her at her beck and call. Despite herself, she loved that power she had over them.

"I do love dancing…" Eomer smiled, nudging her slightly. "See? Lothiriel, nothing is ever that bad. Just think about how you feel when you dance..." She closed her eyes, his words continueing. But she wasn't listening anymore. No, now she was dancing. She could see every single step, every leap, every twirl.

She could also hear the music singing through her every vein. She wanted nothing more than to dance every day for the rest of her life. She stood slowly, letting the wind whip her in circles, lifting her off her feet in a graceful leap. Eomer stood, obviously afraid that she might try to fling herself off again.

"Come." She led him down flight after flight of stairs until she reached the grassy courtyard below. She danced across the square, dragging him with her. "Dance with me." She smiled, her first real smile in too long.

Her movements were like strokes of a paintbrush. Crisp, clear, and smooth. He obviously had trouble keeping up with her, mostly just holding her hand and spinning her, or dipping her low when she asked. He did do a good job of reading into her movements, seeming to know what to do and when.

She finally finished, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. She smiled through the curtain of hair that had come loose from her bun. "Thank you, Eomer." she said softly. He nodded his assent.

Lothiriel turned upon hearing slow clapping. She turned to see a tall girl, standing in the shadows of a building. She was dressed in what would once have been splendid finery, but now was mud caked, dirty, and torn, to say the least. Lothiriel took a bow, walking over to the girl slowly. The features which had appeared simply slim before were gaunt, and her face was pallid. Lothiriel quickly determined that this 'girl' was no more a girl than she was a man. She was a woman, but possibly months of deprivation had made her breasts smaller and her collarbone stood out sharply.

"What is your name?" Lothiriel asked her quietly. "I am Siliet. I have come from the Grey Havens bearing a message from Cirdan." Lothiriel nodded to her. "Yes?"

The girl took a shaky breath. "We will soon be attacked. Cirdan calls for aid."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Hello! I'm back with an update for you. I hope you enjoy. I know it's been far too long that you've had to wait, and it's true that I am a very slow writer. I've been mulling over the plot for this story and I've got a few ideas._

* * *

Lothiriel sat in council with a large group of men, and Cecil. "It must be the bandits we heard of." Argued Captain Gilmandil. "They are trying to divide us. If we send armies to protect the Grey Havens, then they will attack Dol Amroth."

Lothiriel frowned. "I object to that, captain. We have many armies to command. If it is the bandits, then they mean to attack but one of us. Which direction was it stated they were traveling in?"

"I believe it was east," Cecil said, at precisely the same time that Eomer said, "South." Sparks flew between them as Cecil silently orchestrated a staring match, readjusting her position and glaring at him fervently. Ever since Cecil had arrived from the Grey Havens, Eomer and her had gone head to head on numerous occasions.

Lothiriel sighed, breaking the silence.

"It seems that either way, the numbers of said group are too small to be an army attacking us. Perhaps they flee from a greater power."

Eomer, who was blatantly ignoring Cecil, nodded in agreement. "That makes sense, in some ways. However, what could possibly make this group of bandits run away with their tails between their legs?"

Captain Kartoa frowned. "Saruman's death was never accounted for after the Battle of Pelennor Fields. On the contrary, last I heard he was living and breathing just fine. He may be attempting to enact his revenge." Cecil broke eye contact with Eomer.

"Cirdan had confirmed last I left of this unknown enemy's location. They had been moving along the North-South Road, past the Shire, and then stopped just beyond the Far Downs."

Legolas waited for a pause in the debate, before entering his own opinions. "If the Grey Havens call for aid, we must answer!"

"We are far from the Grey Havens as it is. We cannot hope to get there in time." Lothiriel argued. Legolas leaned towards her from across the table. "Then what course of action do you propose we take, your highness?" Lothiriel considered. "Send word to the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains. They are the closest. They will send aid."

Legolas frowned. "It's true that Dwarves and Elves have become less opposed as of late... I suppose that would be best."

"Then we shall send a message to the dwarves. We need someone who is fast on a horse."

All heads turned to Eomer. He nodded, accepting the duty. "As a horse master, I believe I could reach the blue mountains in three days or four days. That is as much as I can offer."

"We shall take a vote." Lothiriel said, a knot of worry forming in her stomach "All in favor?"

Everybody raised their hand in the air. "Very well. Let it be so." Eomer rose and exited, everybody else trailing behind him, chatting amiably.

Lothiriel was left in the room alone, with her thoughts. If he was gone, and she couldn't control herself… _I could… I could make another attempt on my life._ He was her metaphorical rock. He was the only person who made her feel truly safe. She suddenly felt indubitably alone, and a shudder overtook her. But then, _No! _said a defiant voice from deep within her. _I can take care of myself for a fortnight or so. Don't be selfish, Lothiriel. You have too much to live for, and life is too short to spend half of it terrified of your own mind._ She let those happy feelings flow through her, and lifted herself up, buoyed by her will to succeed.

_I must go wish Eomer good luck. He shall need it, from what I can tell. _She hastened from the room, heading down to the stables. The saddle bags had already been packed and ready to go, so he would be heading out already.

She reached the stables slightly out of breath, and barged inside. It was empty. She looked around quickly, hoping against hope that he hadn't already left. She ran down to the bridge, then back to his rooms, knocking. One of the maids said she had just missed him.

She found herself running back to the stables, just in time to see him mounting his beautiful Criollo horse, Mirane. He looked up when she entered, and smiled at her. A beam of dusty light lit up his face, and she found had to restrain herself from walking over and cupping his face in her hands.

"I came to say good luck." He dismounted and walked over. "Thank you. I think… I will need as much luck as I can get." She nodded. "Just, well, don't die. If you have to fight, try to stay out of danger as best you can." She looked down. "I wish I had a good luck charm to give you, even if good luck charms are rather silly and they don't really work in the slightest. It's just superstition, you know." She took a deep breath.

Eomer was smiling at her. "You'll be fine, Lothiriel. I don't need a good luck charm from you, because you are my good luck charm." She stiffened, taken aback, then relaxed a bit, tentatively giving him a quick hug.

She smiled at him, then said quietly, "You should probably go." He turned, mounted his horse, and waited for her to move aside. She did, and he left swiftly. She watched him leaving, took a few deep breaths, and collapsed in a pile of hay. She sat there thinking for a long while before Cecil entered slowly.

"Good day, Lothiriel. May I, ah, join you?" Lothiriel smiled at her, nodding. Cecil sat down next to her in the hay bale. "You seem upset."

Lothiriel's heart began to beat faster. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. I saw the way you two danced. You must be close."

"I wouldn't say we're _that_ close." Lothiriel felt a piece of straw poke her sharply and she readjusted her position. Cecil smirked. "Oh, of course you're not. My mistake."

Lothiriel watched her carefully, slightly piqued by her ruthless honesty. "What do you want Cecil?"

Cecil took a breath. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude, your highness, but since I have arrived I have noticed that a gray cloud hovers above you. I think I may have an idea for you."


End file.
